Isabel was differently employed.
She was busy noting facts in a little plethoric book with yellow covers and an elastic strap that she always carried in her pocket. “Do you know how long and how wide this open space between the two basilicas is?” she asked of the Signora, holding her lead-pencil suspended.
“Oh! it is long enough for a nice walk, you see, and broad enough to see everything at the other side without bumping your eyes. That is the city wall opposite, you know.”
“I’d like to know how many acres there are,” Isabel said to herself. “I believe I could measure it by my eyes. Let me see! It’s a foot to that stone. Five and a half feet make a rod, pole, or perch. Five and a half that distance would go to the next tree. A rod, then, from me to the tree. Now for a rood! Sixteen and a half—no! How I do forget! Three barley-corns make one inch, twelve inches make a foot, five and a half feet make a rod, pole, or perch, sixteen and a half rods, poles, or—bah! that isn’t it. Signora, will you be so good as to tell me how many rods make a rood?—that is, if it is rods that they make roods of. I used to know it, but there’s a hitch somewhere.”
“How should I know, my dear?” asked the Signora with mild surprise.
“Oh! don’t measure things, Bell!” pleaded her sister. “Remember London Tower.”
For Miss Vane had presumed to ask the superb “beef-eater” who escorted them through the Tower how thick might be the walls, the solidity of which he was enlarging upon, and the cool stare with which he drew the eyes of the whole party upon her, and the gently sarcastic “I do not know; I have never measured them,” with which he replied,
had silenced her for the whole afternoon. “That was because I had asked something he could not answer,” she said, in telling the story. “And his manner was so imposing that it was hours before I could rid myself of the impression that I had put a very absurd and improper question. He didn’t refuse sixpence, though, for a piece of ivy from Beauchamp Tower,” she added, shrugging her shoulders.
“Bell,” whispered her sister, “I’ll tell you about the rods and roods, if you won’t measure any more.” Then, having received the promise, she explained the “hitch,” which has doubtless left its little tangle on many a youthful memory.
A woman with a white handkerchief on her head came along, and beckoned to the ragged man with the roses, who was still lounging near, and the two went off together.